


Ties That Break and Ties You Find

by MildlyRebelliousMint



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Batman is a good Dad, Christmas, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, but anti jack drake I guess, platonic soulmate au, well he is trying vv hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildlyRebelliousMint/pseuds/MildlyRebelliousMint
Summary: A tattoo with your child's first word(s) to you appear on your skin when you're on the path to meeting them. To Tim's dismay, Jack Drake's tattoo has been fading for years. Set during Christmas.





	Ties That Break and Ties You Find

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophycroft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophycroft/gifts).



> I wanted to center it more on sophycroft's favorite characters, but I hope this is okay. The Tim version just came to me much easier. It might also be the wrong tone. But uh. Happy holidays.
> 
> Thanks to luckynumberblack for beta-ing and being a champ about this whole thing in general. Also for assuring me that this is not the worst thing ever written.

Tim already knows. When his dad reaches up to replace a fallen ornament and his sleeve slides down a centimeter, Tim shouldn’t feel like his insides are rotting. He grips the seat of his chair trying to push the feeling of wrongness down into the Earth.

Someone touches his shoulder and he jumps.

Mrs. Mac puts her hands up. “Are you alright?”

His dad is looking now.

Tim tries to smile, but the pink letters on his dad’s wrist are searing in his brain: “Mama.” They were red once, but now they’ve faded like a 3 day old ink stamp. “Yeah. Yeah, I just spaced out. Sorry.”

“Focus up, son,” his dad says, clearly amused, “We’ve got a lot of time to catch up on.”

Tim nods. “For sure,” he says, standing, “I just- Let me check on something real quick.”

His dad says something, but Tim doesn’t really hear it. He’s down the hall and opening the bathroom door before he really knows what he’s doing. He shuts the door behind him and leans against it, closing his eyes. He wonders if his mom’s tattoo was still red when she’d died. It had been on her shoulder and he hadn’t seen it often. His dad’s tattoo, though, had been a little lighter every time he came home.

They say the tattoo with your child’s first words to you appear when you’re ready to be their parent. It can vanish if your bond is broken.

When he was a kid, he made it his life’s mission to darken those letters. He’d tried. He really- He thought – He hoped it would be different now that his dad is trying to maintain a relationship, too. Maybe it wasn’t his dad. Maybe it’s Robin in the way now. Maybe it had always been Tim in the way.

He grips the door handles and takes a deep breathe that tastes like lavender and chemicals. He finally has a chance. He just needs to keep working at it.

He doesn’t turn the doorknob. He has to go back into the living room and pretend that everything is okay. That his dad loved him and hadn’t left him on his own until he Tim was more or less grown. Until his dad lost his legs and needed help.

He shoots his dad what he hopes is a coherent message about urgent Robin business, then unlatches the window and climbs out.

It’s a terrible idea. The air bites his skin and the falling snow seeps through his button-up. He doesn’t even know where he’s going. He trudges through the snow regardless.

By the time he finds himself stumbling into Wayne Manor, his toes and face and fingers are numb. It’s painfully warm, but he feels sleepy. In the living room, he finds a tree lit up with red and gold presents underneath. He shouldn’t be here. He’s not sure if came here because of the non-existent Robin business or because of the words on Bruce’s arm he never should have seen or simply because he had no where else to go.

“Tim,” Bruce’s voice startles him and the light flicks on. Bruce squints at him and steps forward to take Tim’s hand before he can think to react. He turns it around in his palm. Tim’s fingers still sting. “You have frostnip,” Bruce says flatly, “How long were you outside like that?”

“The walk from my house to yours,” he answers immediately. It’s some kind of Robin instinct and he feels immediately foolish. It was a stupid move and really not something Robin should be doing.

Bruce’s frown deepens. “You could’ve developed more severe frostbite in that time.”

“I-” He looks down at his snow caked slacks. God, he’s stupid. What is he even _doing_ here?

“You can tell me what happened after you change into warm clothes,” Bruce says, “Alfred keeps fresh pajamas for you upstairs.”

Tim nods. He’d already been told that, but it still feels a little weird.

“You remember where they are?”

Tim nods again and takes off up the stairs. He goes into one of the spare rooms and finds the pajamas folded in the drawer where Alfred had told him before. There are regular clothes, too. He wonders if Bruce knows. He puts on the pajamas anyway.

When he gets back downstairs, Bruce is sitting on the couch, holding a blanket. He pats the couch, so Tim sits and lets Bruce drape the blanket over him.

“I thought you weren’t patrolling today or tomorrow.”

Tim nods. He told Bruce he’d be spending Christmas with his dad and Dana. “I didn’t. It isn’t a Robin thing. Just… being a kid, I guess.”

“It seems important.” Bruce’s brows are drawn and his eyes are focused on Tim. It makes his eyes sting.

“I just-” Tim blinks, “I know I should be grateful, but I just thought- Do you think most people’s tattoos fade over time?”

“You mean parental tattoos?”

He swallows, nodding. “Dad’s- It’s been getting lighter for as long as I can remember.”

“I don’t know,” Bruce says, softly, and Tim remembers.

“Can I see your arm?” It’s not what he expects to come out of his mouth, but at least he could compare.

Batman must have been hung up, because Bruce looks taken aback.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Tim says, sitting up, “I’m sorry, I-”

Bruce puts a hand on his shoulder, steadying him, “It’s alright. You can stay here as long as you want, or I can take you home anytime.” He pauses. “What about my arm?”

Tim can’t look at his face. “Your costume tore and I saw it,” he admits.

“I’m… sorry,” Bruce says, and he sounds incredibly tired, “I didn’t want to put you in this position.”

When Tim lifts his eyes, Bruce looks more lost than he’d ever seen him. He really is concerned.

“You don’t resent it?” Tim asks, voice only squeaking a little.

“No,” Bruce says, quickly, “Of course not. You had parents. I didn’t want to complicate things.”

“Oh,” Tim says. He’s not sure how to take that. “Okay.”

After a moment, Bruce says, “I’m not sure I have the right, but I do love you like a son.”

Tim’s eyes get blurry and he feels a little overwhelmed. He curls into Bruce’s side and he responds by draping an arm around him. “Okay.”

“You really can stay as long as you want,” Bruce says, “Dick and Cass will be here in the morning and they’d be thrilled.” He squeezes Tim’s arm gently, “If you want me to take you home, that’s okay, too.”

Another moment passes before Tim can manage to ask again, “Can I see it?”

Bruce is quiet another moment. Then, he lifts up his arm from Tim’s shoulder and rolls down his sleeve. His arm is scarred and burned and hairy, but also covered in colorful words. In vivid red, at the very bottom, his arm reads, _Call me Robin for now_.

He’s a little awed. “Who are the other ones?” he breathes.

Bruce brushes over the words in blue, _I saw him._ “I didn’t have the words the morning when I went to the circus,” Bruce says, quietly, “But they were there when I returned. I wanted to share my home even before I saw them.”

Dick. He’d been there that awful day, too. 

He skips a tattoo that says _I thought you’d be taller_ and goes to the next one down. Jason’s words, maybe. When he touches the yellow of _Instinct,_ Bruce smiles in the barely there way he does when there’s no press around. “Cassandra.”

He hesitates to touch the next one, reading  _Who says I took them?_ in green. After a beat, Bruce says, “He stole my tires.”

“What?” Tim says and regrets that it comes out half-laugh.

Bruce smiles again, but it’s sad this time. “He was a good kid. Just trying to survive when we met.”

Tim stares at it, not sure what to say. After a moment, he settles on, “Who was the second one?”

Bruce shakes his head. “I’m not sure.”

“Do you think they expect Bruce to be tall or Batman?”

Bruce returns his arm to its place on Tim’s shoulders. “Time will tell.”

\---------

Tim wakes up to Dick gently shaking him, no Bruce in sight. “Hey, Merry Christmas, tiny Tim.”

Tim sits up, groaning. “You aren’t clever.” 

“You’re tiny and named Tim,” Dick says, “It’s just the facts.”

Cass pops up behind him and waves with a grin.

He smiles back. “Hey, Cass.”

It’s not a perfect Christmas. He spends it trying not to think about his dad and how he might have ruined his last chance to mend their relationship.  He doesn’t check his phone, except to send his dad a quick text, affirming that he’s still alive.

The weird thing is that Alfred had prepared presents for him. Also, Bruce drops blankets on him throughout the morning, like he might get frostbite while inside. Cass and Dick hug him and Dick offers to take both Cass and Tim ice skating sometime. They’d also both brought him a present. He tries not to think too hard about that, either. He focuses on how bad Cass is at wrapping things instead. He also focuses on how many cookies Alfred is letting them all get away with eating. 

It’s not the best Christmas ever, but it might be Tim’s best Christmas. As selfish as it might be, because who knows what his dad thinks he’s doing, Tim feels loved.

**Author's Note:**

> I took a few liberties with what the actual first things Bruce's kids said to him were. Our secret.


End file.
